


New Leads

by Kelly_the_Ferret



Series: Leviathan Depths [9]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, The Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: Gabriel is a lavender pine tree, Mighty Boosh Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21581485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kelly_the_Ferret/pseuds/Kelly_the_Ferret
Summary: Crowley wishes Gabriel would stay out of the bookshop. Who can he vent to? Anathema!Thankfully, our celestial pair get a lead on the missing Behemoth.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Gabriel/Raphael (Good Omens)
Series: Leviathan Depths [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1538272
Kudos: 12





	New Leads

They arrived home from Eden and set their network of contacts to work the following morning. The pair shared a surprised glance when Gabriel stopped by the shop that afternoon.

"Any updates?" He asked.

Crowley could swear he saw the archangel trying not to be seen studying him. Gabriel did not linger after Aziraphale gave his very brief report. 

“Why’s he breathing down your neck?” Crowley asked, with a roll of the eyes. “I had a man dispatch a team to track the Behemoth. And they probably aren’t even near the Garden yet.”

The angel shook his head and shrugged. 

The next evening, the archangel stopped by again just before closing. Again, the progress report was very brief. 

Gabriel leaned against a bookshelf. “Have you… Actually read every single one of these?” he asked while gazing around the cluttered space. 

“Yes, at least twice, I believe,” Aziraphale responded off-handedly. He threw a questioning look towards Crowley while Gabriel seemed entranced by the bookshop’s now-darkened skylight. The demon raised an eyebrow and shrugged in response.

“Well, patience is a virtue,” Gabriel said to the ceiling, while sneaking a side-glance towards Crowley’s couch. “I’d get bored waiting around for something to happen over the course of 6,000 years, too,” he added, shaking his head wonderingly at the preponderous collection. 

Crowley sighed irritably from where he lay with his arms crossed.

Gabriel addressed Aziraphale, "How did you stand living right in with humanity all this time? You seem like you learned to like it."

"Well, there's quite a lot to like," the principality answered. "They grow and learn from their mistakes."

The archangel shook his head. "Like a bunch of blind squirrels running around looking for a nut. You actually care about them, though. Why?" he curiously probed.

"It's not rocket science," Crowley called. 

Aziraphale added, "They were made to look like we do; you only have to look at them the same way you look at someone you care about."

"Humph," was the archangel's only answer. He gazed around the shop thoughtfully, his eyes coming back to rest on the couch by the window. He strolled out the door.

"We should ask him to stay tomorrow," Aziraphale suggested after his superior's second visit.

"Why the bloody Hell would we do that?" Crowley responded, not moving.

"He's clearly lonely, and he clearly wants to spend time around you," Aziraphale matter-of-factly stated.

"It's your shop, invite who you want in. I'll be drinking in a corner," the demon grumbled in return.

On the third evening, Crowley took the initiative when Gabriel returned to the shop. He stepped between the archangel and Aziraphale and announced, “Just heard from the team. The lads on location have started following up with people in nearby cities. No word on any Behemoth business yet, but we’ll let you know when we hear anything!”

The angel spoke around the demon, addressing his superior, “Though you’d be welcome to pick up a book while you wait! Why not grab a couch?”

The archangel scratched his head. Gabriel had not been expecting to be invited to spend time at the shop and he certainly was not expecting Aziraphale to awkwardly tell him he could be "one of the lads." But once invited, he requested scotch instead of wine, and joined the principality in the back room. Crowley opted to sulk on his front window couch in the dark.

Crowley spent the fourth day after their return from Eden scouring every information source he could think of. He sat in his new favorite coffee shop (having changed to a different one that Gabriel had not darkened the door of to his knowledge) and jabbed at his phone. With no new information, and no ideas left, he nearly considered contacting Beelzebub. He gagged and took a large gulp of coffee to banish the thought.

That night, Gabriel showed up at closing time with a copy of 'The Hobbit' trilogy, "to settle an argument, dear," as Aziraphale explained.

The demon grudgingly joined in to watch the first film from a desk chair in the corner of the back room. He worked his way through a bottle of Cabernet alone while the two angels sampled a range of whiskeys through the movie. Aziraphale hacked and coughed after each attempted sample, drawing uproarious laughter from Gabriel again and again. After a while, even Crowley had to admit the humor in watching his angel genuinely but unsuccessfully try to enjoy the spirits.

When the first film ended, the two soldiers of Goodness pressed their noses close to the screen. "Right there, Luke Evans as Bard!" Gabriel suddenly ejected.

"Well, he looks more like Orlando Bloom than Orlando Bloom does as the elf!" the other angel retorted.

They both doubled over with laughter.

"You mean you two watched the full extended cut of that film to answer a question you could have IMDB'ed?" Crowley called from his corner.

"What's that?" the angels answered in unison. They burst into loud belly laughs.

The demon rolled his eyes. “Look, if you two are done having ‘book club,’ we really should try to get on with containing a disaster!” 

Gabriel sighed and gave the demon a plaintive look. “I mean, you’re right, but no one has any new information.”

Aziraphale flopped back onto the couch and added, “And there’s no hhharm in having a few drinks and a laugh while we wait for something to turn up!”

“Right, well while you’re ‘having a laugh,’ people are losing their minds! There’s things in the news - people are getting hurt! Kids are in danger!” Crowley spouted.

The archangel shook his head. “Alright, you have a point. This is serious.” He shifted his gaze between the demon and principality. “I’m gonna get going.”

“You’ll stop back in tomorrow, won’t you?” Aziraphale entreated.

Gabriel hesitated, but responded, “Sure, just let me know what time.” With a flash, he was gone.

“What was that?!” the demon demanded after the archangel was gone.

“I believe I’m making a friend,” the principality answered evenly. 

"Friend?!" the demon spouted, "You used to be very effective at shooing rubbish out of your shop!"

On the fifth day after their visit to the Garden, Crowley mercifully got a lead on the Behemoth.

Aziraphale had taken a first edition of Tolkien’s Silmarillion to Gabriel’s cottage, leaving the demon to his own devices. Crowley texted Anthema, ‘Meet for a stroll? Angels have gone mad.”

Anathema's breath puffed out in little clouds that turned golden in the winter sunshine. She scurried up to the demon, rubbing her gloved hands together for warmth. Her life in Southern California had not prepared her for weather colder than "brisk," and she seemed to be accumulating a winter wardrobe of motley-colored woolen layers. "This had better be worth coming out in the cold!" she playfully berated the figure in black. 

"Oh, trust me, you’ve got to hear about this!” the demon responded as he rose to join the witch’s stride.

They set out on foot for a coffee stand while the demon narrated the wild genesis of ‘Crowley’s Angels.` Anathema laughed. “Well, how do you feel about it?”

“Fine, they can drink all they want!” the demon dismissively answered. 

"No, I mean, how do you feel about sharing Aziraphale? And with Gabriel, no less!"

"I'm happy for him!" the demon calmly insisted.

"Which one?" Anathema asked with a knowing grin.

Crowley took his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms across his chest, frowning. The air in the 10 meters surrounding the demon slowly warmed almost imperceptibly. 

Anathema said nothing, choosing to take in the park's scenery.

When the demon finally spoke again he darkly muttered, "They can go read all the nerd books together.”

Anathema looked like she wanted to push her friend further, but at that moment, Crowley received a text message from an old friend in his network of contacts which read 'Come to my shop! There's been a complication!'

He typed 'Angel is busy. Bringing a m8 with a good brain.'

His phone buzzed immediately, 'Fine whatever just get here!!!'

Crowley only had to bend the laws of physics slightly to get the Bentley to his friend's shop within ten minutes. Anathema nearly wretched as she undid her seatbelt.

As they walked into the dark storefront, Anathema found that she felt right at home. The wall shelves were crowded with healing balms, oils which made wild claims, items for various scrying methods, and books upon books of spellworking advice.

Crowley led the way to the counter where he was greeted by a tiny man wearing an enormous fortune teller's turban. The pale-skinned figure was wearing a brightly colored floor-length robe made of some brocade that reminded the witch of the far East. His chin-length straight black hair swung to and fro as he moved around nervously. "Crowley, you need to come see this!" the man anxiously said in an Essex accent. He turned and motioned for the pair to follow him through a curtain to the back of the shop. Anathema regarded the man skeptically.

Crowley quietly explained "Naboo's an ordained member of the Shaman High Council. I've relied on him now and again for at least 400 years."

The shaman led the pair to a round table in a dimly lit room where a massive crystal ball sat next to a cauldron of something that was bubbling fiercely. The mixture was being attended by a shadowy, hulking figure, who rushed around gathering bottles of ingredients to add to the mixture.

Anathema stared into the crystal ball, wondering if she could see a blurry image. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the mysterious figure said "Take your scarf?" in a gruff voice from the shadows. She turned to see the face of a gorilla peering at her.

"Nevermind him! He's just my familiar!" the small man anxiously shouted. He demandingly addressed the gorilla, "Is that stew ready yet, Bollo?" The dark figure wordlessly leaped back into action, stirring and gathering ingredients.

Naboo turned his attention to the crystal, tapping at it with his fingers. He made a disgusted face when it did not respond, and reached for a pair of TV rabbit ears to place on top of the ball. Anathema blinked in amazement when the ball buzzed to life, revealing a man's face. 

"Ey-up, Naboo! Howard's nearly got the bleeding stopped, but he's well-perturbed about his jacket!" the face said in a cheerful voice.

"What's he done to stop the bleeding!?" the shaman demanded.

The face turned to the side, talked with 'Howard,' and turned back, responding, "Standard explorer's tourniquet, he says."

"Oh no, oh no, you didn't!" the shaman shouted. "I told you to leave it be! Crowley's here - Crowley, can you bring them here? Vince, hold up the map! Show where you are!"

The face in the crystal was replaced by a crudely drawn map of Africa with an X on the coast of what could have been Nigeria. Crowley took his glasses off and calmly moved to stoop over the crystal ball. "That's a pants drawing, Vince. Anything would have been better than crayon. I'll do my best," he said with a sigh.

The demon stood up straight, made a grim face, and snapped his fingers.

The two explorers appeared in the small, already crowded room. Anathema gasped when she saw that one of them had a severely disfigured arm. The right sleeve of the man's tweed jacket was shredded to the elbow, and blood was oozing from what looked like burns on his hand and forearm. More concerningly, the arm was ballooning and turning purple below a makeshift brachial artery tourniquet.

"Can't you fix him!?" Anathema begged her companion.

Crowley shook his head, saying "Demons can't heal that sort of injury."

Naboo rushed to look at the arm while the uninjured fellow stepped into the shadows, out of the way. "This is going to take longer now!" he exclaimed. "Bollo, come on, is it ready?"

The gorilla threw an ear of corn into the cauldron, causing the "stew" to become still and turn an unpleasant gray. "Done," he grunted.

The shaman quickly ladled some of the foul-smelling liquid into a cup. "Drink it!" he ordered the injured man.

Howard took a sip and immediately sprayed it back out. He glared at Naboo but gulped the contents of the cup down. 

"Vince, get that off his arm!" the shaman shouted while refilling the cup.

"Another one?" Howard whined while the tourniquet was removed.

"It would be one if you'd have just left it be, now drink!" the tiny man insisted, shoving the cup back at Howard.

The injured man nearly cried as he choked down the second cup, causing his moustache to drip with "stew." But his arm was returned to normal as he finished the last drop.

The room's occupants took a moment to breathe.

Anathema observed the two explorers. "Vince" was about her height and had pale skin & dark hair, similar to Naboo's, except that Vince wore his hair in a fussy, feathered, glam rock creation that brushed his shoulders. He was wearing a skin-tight jumpsuit made of an iridescent silver material with white knee-high platform boots. She wondered if the man had been assaulted by the 1970's while in Africa.

Howard, meanwhile, resembled a disliked college professor. His mouse-brown hair was unkempt and stuck out in all directions. He wore the damaged brown jacket over a button-down shirt that was wildly patterned with orange sailboats. He wore trousers in a brown that didn't quite match the jacket with worn hiking boots.

Howard looked to Crowley, holding out his arm. In a northern accent he said, "And what about this, then? This jacket has saved my life on many occasions, sir!" 

Crowley snapped and the sleeve was mended. "The hell have you done?"

Vince, grinning, stepped in with "Oh, you'll love this, Crowley. We tracked your creature through the desert, down through the jungles, and finally to the coast. And then, you won't believe this - it looks like he just went right out to sea!"

"You travelled all that way in a week?! And what happened to his arm?" Anathema interjected. 

Howard squinted at the witch, causing his already disproportionately small eyes to shrink further. He dramatically said, "We explorers follow the old, forgotten ways. Through day and night we travelled. When we reached the far side of the jungle, we found the sea. And there, on the coast, we discovered the remains of a terrible struggle!"

Vince laughed and added "He means that a load of Nigerian holiday-makers were angrily trying to clean up their beach. Apparently, something large and invisible just stomped right past them two days ago. They told us it tried to snack on a row of deck chairs, but the splintery wood only injured its mouth. Howard, here, tried to collect a sample of its blood to bring back, but, well, you saw what happened."

"Numpty!" Crowley commented, looking at Howard.

Bollo stepped up to the table and attempted to focus the group. "Naboo. We must find Behemoth soon. It is only a matter of time before the madness becomes too strong for the familiar spell. You must hurry!" 

Crowley looked at the time and called his angel. "You lot finished reading yet? Yeah, tell him there's been a development. Over at Naboo's," he said into the phone.

With a flash, Gabriel and Aziraphale joined the crowd. The principality was in a feminine form, and her kitten heels promptly caused her to stumble into a shelf.

"Oi, you're trampling my rare ingredients!" Naboo shouted as bodies shifted around to make room. 

"There's plenty of room and cocoa to go 'round at the bookshop!" Aziraphale called out.

There was a general commotion and the entire group was archangel-ed into Aziraphale's roomy storefront.


End file.
